Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 69787 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69787 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
“I’m not going anywhere.” Her tantrum the other day had only made me want her more, made our passion escalate through the roof. In the moment, I was pissed she would think so little of me, but once I walked away, I realized it had nothing to do with my character. She was just so into me, so possessive of me, that she couldn’t control her emotions. It was hot.
She lifted her gaze and looked into my eyes, her fingers stopping. “I know…”
Now I wanted her more than I had before, because being with a woman who was so sprung on me was sexy. Well, not just any woman, but this woman. She wasn’t going to walk away from me anytime soon. I had her wrapped around my finger—nice and tight.
She grabbed her phone again and looked at the time. “I’ve got to go.” She started to sit up.
I grabbed her wrist and pulled her back. “Go where? You still have a lot of making up to do.” A week without sex was insufferable. I went from having the best sex of my life on a nightly basis to being alone, to jerking off to the sight of her panties that she’d left behind. I didn’t even like jerking off in the first place. Why would I use my hand when I could have real pussy? “A lot more apologies to make.”
She stopped resisting me, letting me hold her wrist all I wanted, but a few months ago, she would have stabbed her fingers into my eyes to get free. “I know, but I have to work.” She seemed genuinely sad to leave me, like she wanted to stay there with me forever, like this week apart had been just as difficult for her. “I’ve got bills to pay.”
“I can pay all your bills.” The only time I gave a woman money was for sex, but I offered her everything I had for no real reason at all.
She rolled her eyes like she thought I was joking. “I love my job. I mean, I wish I didn’t have to go tonight, but…it’s fine.”
“What would happen if you didn’t?”
“My understudy would perform.”
“Has that ever happened?”
“No. I always show up. No matter what.”
“Well, good to know you have a replacement if I ever decide to tie you up.” She probably thought I was joking, but I definitely wasn’t. I got out of bed and pulled on my sweatpants so I could walk her to her car in the garage.
She got dressed too, pulling on the outfit she’d worn when she showed up last night. She didn’t bring a bag with her, probably because she had no idea where our conversation would go. She was afraid I’d already moved on with another woman.
Who? Who could possibly follow her?
I walked with her downstairs and into the underground garage, where I had my truck and other vehicles. She pressed the button on her keys to unlock her car, but before she opened the door to get inside, she turned to me, her eyes still somber.
“Don’t look at me like that.” I cupped her face with both of my palms, bringing her face close to mine. My fingers moved under the fall of her hair, cradling her close as I looked into those gorgeous eyes.
“I was so afraid of what I would see when I walked in there the other day…”
She knew how she felt about me, but she clearly had no clue how I felt about her. Maybe she wasn’t as smart as I gave her credit for. “No.”
She closed her eyes.
“We’re gonna fight—a lot. Doesn’t mean anything.”
She opened her eyes again.
“I said we would fuck the way we fight.” My thumb brushed across her bottom lip. “The fighting doesn’t stop the fucking.” I kissed the corner of her mouth before I released her.
Now her mood had lightened, taking heart in what I said. She finally gave me a soft smile, feeling secure in this relationship once again. She rose on her tiptoes and kissed me on the mouth before she got into the car.
I hit the button on the wall and opened the garage, watching her until she pulled onto the street and disappeared.
I grabbed a program on my way inside.
Balto didn’t own anything remotely nice, so he walked inside wearing jeans and a shirt. When the usher reminded him of the dress code, he slipped him a couple hundred euro to shut his mouth. “I can’t believe I’m going to the fucking ballet.”
“You want to see my baby, right?”
He shrugged.
I handed him the program. “First page.”
He opened it and saw the picture of Catalina along with her description, her other performances as well as a few sentences about her personal life. It was a black-and-white photo, a picture of her side profile, her hair down one shoulder.